Bourbon Hot Chocolate
by Azdgari
Summary: Incredibly, the ZPD Christmas party has never burnt the station down, although it came pretty close a few years back. Anyway, what's the worst a cocktail-loving fox and over-exuberant bunny can do?


**Bourbon Hot Chocolate**

"Now bear with me: candy canes or reindeer with cocktails?"

Nick held the ties up to his collar, each one pleasantly popping against a pressed white shirt. "Carrroootttssss," he whined in faux-desperation, like a neglected cub.

"Candy canes," she replied without turning around, digging through the dresser and retrieving a gracefully plain silver band.

Nick's chest deflated. "You didn't even look…"

Judy squeezed the bracelet over her paw onto her wrist. Then she turned around and plucked the candy cane tie from where Nick had laid it on his bed. Hopping up onto the covers, she slung it around his neck.

"'Cause I knew which to choose. And that," she said spritely as her paws worked, "is because Rudy in logistics gets touchy this time of year." She frowned slightly as the tie refused to cooperate. "As you know. From last year."

Nick pouted. "You can't possibly blame me for that. Ask a guy if he's got a pilot's license one time…"

Judy broke into a smile. "I think it was the nose comments, actually." She adjusted the finished knot and reached around the back of his neck to fold down the collar. "Rudy, rrr-rrudy _my man_ ," she slurred, swaying for effect. "G (hic), GPS is down, Rudy. Rudy, we need your (hic), NOSE!" She batted his snout.

"I was told that I was the life of the party," Nick responded with dignity, parrying a flurry of light punches from the rabbit. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, keep an eye on Wolford behind the bar this time though, wouldja? The way he pours those bourbon hot chocolates… talk about _extreme prejudice._ "

She stepped down from the bed and gave herself a final once-over in the mirror next to the dresser. A plain, dark navy dress hugged her down to the knees, with a slit along the side running just long enough to be fashionable without being risqué. It was tame by the standards of the city, but it still felt exotic and dangerous to a bunny whose other dresses were made of flannel and more-likely-than-not sewed by someone with whom she shared a last name.

A dapper-looking fox appeared in the reflection next to her. He fidgeted with his cuffs, managing to wrestle them both closed before donning a dark jacket to match his dark pants. She sighed, leaning on one hip. "Nothing beats a well-dressed man." Her eyes trailed to his open top button, his tie hanging comfortably below it. "Or at least, as close as we get around here, right?"

"Mmm," Nick agreed, giving himself sultry looks in the mirror. "Us foxes have such a natural flair for the _casual-chic._ "

She elbowed him. "C'mon, Casanova. Let's get this show on the road." He followed her out of his bedroom down the skinny hall of his apartment, past the bathroom into the main living area. A small but functional kitchen was tucked behind a tiled breakfast bar on one side of the room. On the other, a well-loved couch and a plush chair were oriented towards a TV. The coffee table was a mosaic of watermarks, some fresh enough to have been from that morning. Among the bachelor posters ('Paw and Order' and 'Rawr Wars' most prominently), a few photographs were hung unobtrusively. One of his mother. One of him and Judy on graduation. One of Finnick in a bassinet was perched next to the coffeemaker in the kitchen, presumably so Nick could laugh at it every morning.

She snagged the small coat that had been draped over the chair and waited as Nick retrieved his keys from the kitchen counter. They stepped out into the musty hallway, and after Nick locked the door behind them, they made their way down a flight of stairs and out the door of the building.

—

A few kitschy christmas songs on the radio later, the pair were pulling into a spot in the crowded ZPD parking lot. Nick killed the engine, smiling despite himself as Judy belted out the last few bars of 'Santa Claws is Coming to Town' along with the track. As the music faded, he removed the keys and stepped out into the cold. "Gorgeous, Carrots," he said with a smirk as he shut the door, his words visible in the cold air. "You're the songbird of our generation."

"I'm just making sure my voice is warmed up." They walked through the parking lot towards the entrance, each step crunching a thin layer of snow over the pavement. She nudged him while looking straight ahead. "You can't lip-sync karaoke, you know."

Nick stopped walking. His ears twitched.

Judy took a few more steps forward and looked back at him with impish innocence. "What?"

"Carrots, I am _not_ singing karaoke."

She shrugged. "Oh, relax. Who knows if there'll even _be_ karaoke?"

"Carrots, if you're messing with me, so help me…"

"So help me what?" A challenge was evident in her violet eyes. Nick pretended to think. "You've got nothing," she sang.

Now it was Nick who padded forward so that they were next to one another. "I dunno, Judy. Maybe word gets out about the whole 'Jack Savage' incident."

Her face went scarlet, and when Nick looked down, he swore he could see steam coming from her ears. "THAT NEVER EVEN HAPPENED! I'VE NEVER SPOKEN MORE THAN TWO WORDS TO THE GUY!"

He shook his head in mock-disapproval. "It's awful how mammals talk, isn't it? A few words in the locker room and suddenly it's the hot gossip for a month. Just awful."

She let out an exasperated breath, sending a wispy cloud spiraling into the evening. "Fine. No karaoke." A wry smile fought its way across her muzzle. "Probably."

They approached the entrance. A cacophony of music, elevated voices, and the clinking of drinks was leaking from the building, and a great play of silhouettes flitted about behind the opaque double doors. "I mean, It's not like it's a karaoke party, right?" she joked as they pulled the doors open.

—

It was, most definitely, a karaoke party.

The station was dressed up for the holiday. Festive white lights lining the walls softly illuminated the lobby, and the scent of ivy and mistletoe was the first thing well-attuned noses picked out after walking in the door. The second, perhaps, may have been the strongly alcoholic scents swirling around the bar off to the left, where officer Wolford, sporting a black tie and a wide grin, was twirling a large bottle of single-barrel whiskey and beckoning any mammal in range to try the 'Holiday Special'.

But the center of attention was the center of the lobby. The reception desk had been transformed into a stage, complete with a PA system, a screen for lyrics and, at present, a well-lubricated Trunkabee warbling into a microphone that had yet to be switched on. Nick's eyes widened to dinner-plate proportions, but before he could react further, he found himself wrapped up in a pair of ample, warm arms.

"Oh, you _made_ it! Merry Christmas!" Clawhauser cooed, nearly crushing Nick and Judy into a single mammal before releasing them into a heap. "You two have barely missed anything, things just gotten started." He glanced at Trunkabee. "Well, except, you know. Wolford's first victim!" The cheetah was sporting a gloriously ugly wool sweater that depicted a wood sleigh being pulled by a ZPD Tactical All-Terrain Response Vehicle.

Judy beamed at him. "Merry Christmas, Clawhauser. Everything looks fantastic."

Clawhauser blushed and stared straight down, kicking at something nonexistent on the ground. "Oh, what, the decorations? Hardly took a moment." He peeked up. "I mean… even the trim? I didn't know if I should go ribbons or not, they're so _garish_ , but some people like them, and I just—"

Nick put a paw on his shoulder. "You've outdone yourself, Ben. A real visionary. In all things decorative."

Clawhauser swelled."Oh, you two." He briefly stacked his paw on Nick's before returning them to his hips. "Well! Karaoke won't start for a bit, so you two go on and _mingle_! I know the chief's around here somewhere, and I'm sure he'd love to see you, although he'd _never_ admit it," he finished in a conspiratorial whisper.

One holiday song faded out and another crept in as the pair waded into the crowd of coworkers. "Oh, right off the bat. Perfect. Rudy!" Nick exclaimed, making a beeline towards the reindeer. "Hey, I've got an important question for you." Judy saw the officer grimace and tighten his grip on his drink as Nick approached. Nick took a deep breath, paused for effect, and pointed to the reindeer next to Rudy. "Is this the lovely missus we've heard so much about?"

Rudy's grip relaxed, and Judy chuckled. "Why yes!" Rudy replied, tapping the reindeer next to him on the shoulder. "Nick, this is my wife, Comet!"

Leaving Nick to hold court with the couple, Judy's ears perked up as she spied a lumbering form in the distance. "Bogo!' With practiced, liquid ease, she maneuvered her small frame through a sea of larger mammals, flowing through legs and squirting through gaps. "Pardon! Coming through! On your right!' In a few moments, she came to the back of her commanding officer.

She waited politely for a minute as he wrapped up his conversation with Barkley before clearing her throat behind him. He turned to find an elegantly dressed rabbit with her arms crossed, looking up with feigned disinterest. "You, uh, come here often?"

"Do I come here often?" he cocked an eyebrow. "Hopps, I practically _live_ here." Before he could continue, Judy had shed her play-it-cool mask and leapt up to wrap a hug around the bison's neck. He rolled his eyes, but there was a twinkle of light in them, and he grudgingly gave her a cursory pat on the back before she dropped back to the ground. "My, my, Hopps. Already been over to see Wolford, then?"

"Nope!" she glowed. "Just yer' everyday Hopps enthusiasm for my favorite buffalo!"

"Ah. Splendid."

Judy nodded, impervious to the Chief's stony demeanor. "What about you? Watcha drinking?"

He eyed the glass in his paw with some distaste. "Water. On the rocks." He spread his arms ironically. "New year, new Bogo."

Judy's mouth made an 'Oh' shape. "Wow. But you love—at the Gazelle concert, you were totally… won't you…" Impossibly, Bogo's face had grown stonier. Judy gave a sheepish chuckle. "Ehhh, I'll shut up. Good on ya', boss."

" _Good?_ " A familiar fox came into view, face twisted in agony. "Judy, how dare you." He gave her the look a parent gives an offending child. "Encouraging backwards, anti-party behavior like this. Bogo, what you're doing is just… just wrong."

Bogo groaned. "And, here we go."

"Oh, c'mon chief. It's the holidays. Just one drink never killed anyone," Nick said, tugging the bison in the general direction of the bar.

Bogo really did resist. But Nick was insistent. "One drink, Wilde," he relented.

Nick swung a paw solemnly over his chest. "Scout's honor."

Their voices waned as they padded towards an eager Wolford. "Maybe one of those bourbon hot chocolates you're always ranting about…"

—LATER—

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Judy called to Wolford across a bar covered in empty mugs, watching as Nick and Bogo wobbled off into the crowd.

There wasn't even the slightest hint of remorse in the wolf's features. "Hey, I just pour the drinks! You've got that silver-tongued fox to blame, if anything. Drank the chief under the table, exact same as last year."

"Mmmhmmm," she said, unconvinced. She leaned over and sniffed one of the mugs. "They do smell great, though," she murmured.

The note of curiosity was subtle, but Wolford was a predator, and he knew an opportunity when he saw it. With a dangerous glint in his eyes, he rubbed his paws together and reached for the cocoa under the bar.

The loud hiss of feedback pierced the din of the crowd, and Judy instinctively pinned her ears to the side of her head. "Ah, ahem, ah, hello everybody!" Clawhauser's merry voice filled the lobby. "I hope everyone's having fun so far!" Emboldened by the resulting cheers, he continued. "Well, we've got the karaoke all set and ready to go, so just make your way over to me at the sign-ups," he gestured to a foldable table set up new to the stage, "and put your name in. Let's get this party started!"

A modest pack of mammals formed a queue, and to Judy's utter delight, she spotted an orange form stumble into the mix. "Oh man, this is gonna be golden," giggled a hulking lion wearing a smart tuxedo as he set his considerable mass down next to her.

"McRoary! Merry Christmas," she nodded at her fellow officer. McRoary was among the most capable and least mature members of SWAT, with a well-earned reputation for gambling and inappropriate jokes. Over the course of Judy's career, she'd found herself dragged into both, and more often than not their interactions ended in Judy storming off. But all it takes is a few tight spots to make even the most incompatible mammals into comrades. "Didn't know you were such a a karaoke fan."

"What, are you kidding me? Wilde's over there. Aren't you a detective now?" He pulled a smartphone from his pocket and dangled it in front of her. "B-L-A-C-K-M-A-I-L, Hopps." He glared in Nick's general direction. "Leave a string of yarn on my desk one more time, wise guy. See what video's at the top of the listserv next morning."

Judy shook her head. "You're horrible," she tutted as she dug into her purse and fished out her phone, making sure the camera was set to video.

He pointed to a full mug in front of her. "So… you just waiting for that to drink itself, or what?"

Judy turned to the bar and saw that, indeed, a full mug had appeared out of thin air in front of her. "Whuh?" Wolford was nowhere to be found. "That's… weird…"

"Well, I'd never let an officer drink alone," McRoary said, leaning his massive frame over the bar to snatch a pitcher of cocoa and a fresh bottle of bourbon.

Conversation and laughter flowed along with the drinks, and the pair had soon made their own contribution to the collection of mugs on the bar. "I'm telling you, Hopps," McRoary said, hunching over the rabbit. "The hot tub has, _transformed,_ my deck and my social life. You've got the salary… Doesn't that fox's apartment have a patio?" Judy was about to answer when Clawhauser's voice became audible once more. "Up next, we have…" A dramatic pause, or perhaps just Clawhauser trying to decipher some particularly scratchy handwriting. "Oh. _Oooh_. Yes! Up next, we have our very own _Nick Wilde!_ "

"Woo!" Judy bounced up and down in her chair and pumped her fists as Nick gracefully ascended the stairs with only the slightest of sway in his step. With a flourish, snatched the microphone from the stand and took a preparatory stance, eyes closed and his head turned towards the ground. The lobby below hushed somewhat. Full of liquid courage, the fox had the air of a performer, and the crowd took notice.

Drums. Then guitar, and bass. A riff the entire building could sing along to. The energy was infectious, and a collective grin spread across the party, except for Nick, whose face remained hidden. Then, as the moment came, Nick jerked his head up and treated the crowd a silky-smooth smirk, eyes just so slightly narrowed as if he was sharing a private joke with every mammal in the building.

" _Some people call me the space-cowboy, yeah."_

Pitch, timbre, dynamics, these technicalities eluded Nick. But nobody noticed that, least of all him.

 _"Some people call me the gangster of love."_

With one paw, he yanked his candy-cane tie loose and thumbed out another button. The tuft of orange fur that puffed out drew a few good-natured, high-pitched calls.

" _Some people call me Maurice,"_

McRoary catcalled loudly, earning a wink.

 _"Because I speak… on the pomp-uhmmerrrtsss, of love…"_

 _…_

 _…_

…

" _And I'm a joker, I'm a smoker, I'm a midnight poker… I sure don't want to hurt no one…"_

The entire force was singing together by now, arms around one another and swaying to the beat. Judy found herself on the bar, shouting along with McRoary and Wolford (who had reappeared). Her ears flopped to and fro as she swung her head, mimicking Nick's nonsensical but endearing dance moves. He held the last note as long as his breath would allow, leaning over backwards so far he nearly tumbled over. When he couldn't hold it any longer, he cut it abruptly and swung his body back down, tucking his head under his balled up fist in a finishing pose.

The applause swelled. Nick looked up after a few seconds, panting and sporting a pure, joyful smile that was usually reserved for a very select group of mammals. "Nick Wilde everybody!" Clawhauser squealed into the PA. "Woo!" As the clapping died down, Clawhauser shuffled through the sign up sheets. "Whooph. Tough act to follow!" he bantered. "Uuuup next, we ha—"

"Hold that thought, Ben!" Nick exclaimed, holding up a finger. Clawhauser's paw flew to cover his mouth. "I've got one more quick one, I think." He padded forward on the stage to Clawhauser's table underneath and kneeled down to whisper in the cheetah's ear. Clawhauser listened intently with a growing grin. He nodded emphatically as Nick grabbed onto his shoulders for stability as he rose back to his feet. He returned to the microphone.

"Bear with me, everybody. I've got one more for an officer that frankly," he closed his eyes and collected himself for a moment, "well, just about everyone loves this particular somebody. Maybe some… even more than others," he finished with a wobble, steadying himself on the mic band.

The song opened with percussion. Shakers and beads, and then a single, simple guitar playing a single, simple melody. Nick nodded his head to the rhythm. "A one, two three…"

" _Workin' all day, for a mean little man_

 _With a clip-on tie, and a rub-on tan"_

Bogo, in rough shape at the bar, seemed to take vague offense at this.

 _"He's got me runnin' round the office like a dog around a track,_

 _But when we get back home you're always there to rub my back_

 _Heyyy, Judy, look what they're doin' to me_

 _Trynna trip me up_

 _Trynna wear me down_

 _Judy I swear it's so hard to bear it_

 _And I'd never make it through, without you around_

 _No I'd never make it through, without you around!"_

Judy's fur was scalding crimson and her ears were furled down her back, but her smile could've melted a frigid tundra. She felt a tap on her arm. It was Wolford. "I guess you're alright, Hopps." He gave her a gentle push, which was still enough to send her careening off the bar.

A pair of muscular arms caught her. "Ahhh, we love ya', Hopps," McRoary bellowed, giving her a merciless noogie.

"Ooh! Aaah! Stop that!" she half-laughed, half-cried as McRoary cackled, doubling his efforts before letting her down. Her eyes tracked back to the stage, but a certain fox had already disappeared.

—LATER STILL—

Nick's performance, along with Fangmeyer's surprisingly expert rendition of _Faith_ (' _Well I guess it would be_ ** _nice_** _',_ the tiger shot a finger at his wife in the crowd like an arrow and body rolled, _'if I could touch ya' body, you know not everybody, has got a body like_ ** _you_** _)_ were remembered as the highlights in the coming weeks. Bogo's ill-fated performance (' _AND AIIIIIIAIIIIAIIIIIIIIII (hic), AIIIIIII, will always, LUHUUUVVV, YOUUUUU')_ would be remembered much longer, for completely different reasons. Years later, long after he thought the evidence had been destroyed, the video would find its way to his retirement ceremony. A particular handful of officers, including Nick and Judy, denied any involvement.

As the night grew old, the flow of drinks slowed to a peter, and then stopped altogether as Wolford shouted for the last call. Finally, Clawhauser hopped up on the stage and took the mic. "Everybody! This has been _lovely_ , but this is the last song! Oh, and mammals who drew cleanup, and you _know who you are_ , don't forget to stay after. We don't want a repeat of last year. And the year before." This drew a few scattered groans.

The music returned, with the slow drawl and utterly velvety pipes of Jerry Vole: _I'm… dreaming… of a white… Christmas…_

A selection of mammals took the opportunity to enjoy a last dance. Judy had just finished a conversation with Grizzoli and was just going to head to coat-check when she felt a familiar paw pat the crown of her head. She turned to find that a thoroughly disheveled fox was giving her a toothy, charming smile and extending a paw. "May I have the honor, miss Carrots?"

Their size difference made a slow dance something of an awkward affair, but most everyone, including them, was probably in no state to take notice. Nick sort of hunched over a bit, and Judy stood up on her tippy toes, and they were able to reach a mildly respectable head-to-chest position. Judy teetered on her toes before Nick's paws found the small of her back and steadied her.

"I knew you were going to make me sing," he whispered into one of her ears.

"Oh… _made_ you sing? Is that what happened?"

"Mmmhmm," he murmured. "You said you'd watch Wolford for me."

She giggled. "Well… Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I?"

"I hate you Carrots." A pause. "Please don't share the video."

"I would never. McRoary might."

He groaned, and she felt his shoulders slump. "For a night with an open bar… this one's still gonna cost me, huh?"

That earned a chuckle, light and pure as a feather. She pulled back and beamed up at him. "That was good. Not bad after twelve mugs of Bourbon Hot Chocolate."

"Nine," he defended, looking over her shoulder. Across the dancefloor, Rudy was enjoying an intimate moment with his wife. Childish temptations briefly distracted him before he returned to her gaze. "The least you could have done is get drunk too."

She shrugged innocently. "Oh, Wolford got me alright. Just not nearly as bad as you."

"Not bad enough, clearly. And after all that, you didn't even sing."

"Well, you're a tough act to follow, Wilde." She paused. "That… was really sweet, by the way."

Some pride played across his expression. "Yeah, it was alright. It was that or _Foxy Lady_ , you know…"

"Mmm, I think I've heard you rehearsing that one in the shower once or twice."

One of his paws drifted up and tugged one of her ears, earning a jump. "Well… what _would_ you have sung?"

"Hmm…" her head lolled to one side in thought. Around them, Jerry Voles' dulcet tones faded and the crowd began shuffling towards the exits. The lobby lights were switched on, harsh and sterile compared to the low, soft light of the party. A crew of uniformed mammals had entered and were carrying out the leftover alcohol in crates. Clawhauser was practically shoving Bogo out the door, shouting something about his Zuber rating.

Her eyes brightened with an idea. She drew herself up to full height to whisper a tune in his ear.

" _Wilde thing…dunn dunn, dunn dunn, you make my heart sing…"_

 **-FIN-**

 **(A/N)**

I know I missed the boat on doing a Christmas fic... to be honest, I didn't even think of it until the 27th, so this was like... record writing time for me. Sorry for inevitable typos, etc. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the goofiness. It was fun to write.


End file.
